Candle In The Window
by KyoHana
Summary: After being gone for almost four years, Hiei returns to the Human World, wondering if Kurama is waiting as he'd promised.


_**(Standard disclaimer: You know I don't own YYH or its characters; they are the sole property of Yoshihiro Togashi, Shonen Jump Comics Weekly, Studio Pierrot and Fuji Television.)**_

_Hiei's POV_

"I love you, Hiei."

He'd said it so easily, so freely, and with such conviction, that I knew the whispered words were true. Yet, how could someone as perfect as the beautiful red-headed man before me love one such as me? I was nothing…nobody…forbidden – unwanted even by my own kind. I'd been cast out from my home, my family; forced to make my own way in a world that didn't give a damn if I lived or died. I had never needed anyone – until now – and still, I couldn't say it. Instead…..

….."Hn, I'm leaving," I had replied, "and I don't know when I'll return." The 'or if' had remained unspoken but hung in the air nonetheless.

He'd smiled softly in return and shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. I'll be waiting," he said and then leaning down, he'd placed a gentle, chaste kiss on my lips.

* * *

Nearly four years have passed since I returned to the Demon Realm; leaving the Human World, and him, behind. To be precise, it's been three years, eight months, and twenty-seven days. I've spent that time as Mukuro's second-in-command and heir apparent, training to gain the power I'd always craved; learning the subtle art of diplomacy and the hypocrisy of politics; and patrolling the border between Makai and Ningenkai, rescuing the hapless humans that stumbled across; wiping their memories of having done so; and returning them to their own world.

I had done it all in the vain hope that I would be too distracted to think of him. It was why I'd left in the first place – to escape these feelings he inevitably brought out in me. Emotions – things I'd spent decades suppressing; hiding them deep within my heart and surrounding it with a barrier of ice so thick it was impenetrable. Or so I thought, until he easily breached that wall just as he'd broken into Enma's vault so long ago, and touched something within me that I thought had gone forever.

Yet almost four years later and he was still there: deep within the dark recesses of my mind and heart; shining like a candle in the window of my very soul.

Sentimental foolishness, and completely out of character for someone like me, some might say; and they'd be correct. Nevertheless, it's how I thought of him these days – my flame-haired candle in the window. His own fault, really, for it was he who taught me the origins of the phrase.

He was reading that night when I came to his apartment, seeking shelter from the rain (as I so often did), and after greeting me with a warm smile, he'd closed the book and offered me something warm to drink, knowing my penchant for that sweet drink the humans called 'hot chocolate'. Without waiting for my reply, he went to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with two mugs in hand. After he handed me mine and settled himself comfortably once more on his sofa, I asked him (more for something to say than anything else) what he'd been reading. He told me it was a book on the origins of human traditions, and the like. When I, fool that I was for even asking, replied with my usual, "hn", he launched into a full discourse of the subject, especially the one pertaining to leaving a candle in the window, which seemed to be a favorite of his. He told me that while many cultures practiced this particular tradition, he was especially fond of those from the country he called America.

It seems that in times gone by, when communication with a loved one away on a long trip was almost non-existent, the candle in the window was a symbol to the traveler that those at home eagerly awaited their return. It was also used as a beacon to a weary traveler, a gesture that they would be welcomed into the home where the candle burned.

Americans also used the candle in the window during times of war, when their mothers or mates (he'd used the term 'wives') would place the candle in the window, point to it as their sons or husbands went to war, assuring them it would be lit every night until they returned home safely. The candle showed the warriors that they were much loved and would not be forgotten while they were at war.

I remember that I found myself listening to that particular bit of information more attentively than what had been said previously; perhaps because I thought it appropriate that a warrior should be honored in such a way, or maybe it was simply that I wondered if there were someone that would do such a thing for me. I was no one's son and certainly not a mate. There was my sister, of course. Yet I couldn't help but wish there was someone else….someone special….someone that loved me in a way that was not familial.

As I stand here, awash in my memories and just on the other side of the portal that has returned me to the Human World for the first time in almost four years, I find myself wondering the same thing. He'd said he loved me and would be waiting, but after all this time, could it still be true? Would my candle be there as he'd promised so long ago?

There was only one way to find out. And so, with the speed for which I was so well known, I raced from the portal, across treetops and rooftops to the familiar maple tree outside the humanized fox's home.

It was autumn in the Human World now, and the tree stood, its leaves of orange and gold awash in the glow from a full moon. Alighting on the branch just outside his bedroom window, I see the window is open, just as it had always been. I look toward it, my breath catching for just an instant as I stare at something new; something sitting on the sill I'd occupied so many times in the past: a candle, its flame stirring in the slight breeze that blew through the leaves and in through the window.

Without hesitation, I jump the short distance to the sill, careful to avoid the candle as I ease my way down from the sill and into the room. There is no light, save for the small flame from the candle and the full moon outside, but I can still see him. He is standing in the middle of the room, his jade eyes soft and a wide, yet gentle, smile on his beautiful face. He opens his arms and I waste no time, moving across the room and into his warm embrace.

"Welcome home, Hiei," Kurama says, and I know that, yes, I have come home.

_Owari_

* * *

**Author's Notes: I once wrote a one-shot told partially from Kurama's POV. I thought it was time to give Hiei his turn.**

**This story was inspired by the REO Speedwagon song, "I Can't Fight This Feeling".**

**If you feel so inclined after reading, please leave a review.**


End file.
